Almost All Grown Up
by Bionically
Summary: Beezus was getting married; Howie was leaving for college; where did any of this leave Ramona? From Howie's perspective.
1. Changes

It was still festive in the Quimbys' household when Howie decided to leave for the evening. He let himself out through the front door and came to a halt when he saw Ramona sitting on the porch. The hunched slope of her shoulders and the way she had wrapped her arms around her knees disquieted him.

"Hey," he said. "Are you okay?"

If anything, Ramona seemed to hunch down even further. She rubbed the sleeve of her shirt across her face like a young child, and he waited. He knew Ramona of old. It didn't take much encouragement for her to spill out all her emotions.

"It's just..." she started. "It's just that _everything's_ changing. Things will never be the same again."

"Oh, Ramona," he said awkwardly.

She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Beezus is getting married and moving away. And _you're _going away for college. So's Daisy. I'm going to be the only one still here!"

And left behind.

Howie knew better than anyone how much Ramona would hate being left behind. "Roberta's here," he said. "And Willa Jean."

It wasn't much comfort and he knew it. He made a silent grimace to himself. Ramona treated Willa Jean like she was another sister, but she was younger than Ramona and Howie, and it probably wasn't comforting to know that everyone she had grown up with was about to leave. He watched Ramona place one cheek on her knee and pity stirred in him. He slowly eased himself down on the porch step next to her.

"You won't even be here for Beezus's wedding," Ramona wailed. "Be-because you have to go on that stupid senior trip."

"Yeah," he said, wisely ignoring her insult. "It's too bad that Beezus couldn't move the wedding up a bit. The school council planned this senior trip half a year ago."

They both contemplated this gloomily. Beezus wanted a perfect June wedding, which meant that Howie and Daisy wouldn't even be around for it.

"I probably won't even see you when you get back," Ramona grumbled. "We talked about our road trip for forever, and now it won't even happen."

Now she was being melodramatic. Usually he might ignore her when she was like this, but she was right. Things were changing. Her Aunt Beatrice had come back to celebrate Beezus's engagement and soon, there would be the usual chaos associated with weddings, with Uncle Hobart also coming into town, along with Ramona's Grandpa Day - but he wouldn't be around for any of that. He would be off on the senior trip abroad, and poor Ramona would still be here for the rest of the summer. Although he didn't say it, he was glad he wouldn't be around for the fuss.

"You can always come visit me in college," he suggested. "It's not that far away." He would be attending college in southern California. A long drive or short flight away.

She seemed to perk up a bit at that. "Really?"

"Sure," he said. "There's Disneyland and Universal Studios, and whatever else you want to do there."

"And go on our road trip?" she asked, giving one last sniff.

"Sure," he said.

"Really, Howie? You think we could really do all that?" She sounded excited, and he glanced at her. Any moment now, and she would jump up and run inside to announce to everyone that she would be going to Hollywood. She would go crazy overboard with her plans. As usual.

What he _really_ thought was that their road trip wasn't very likely. The chances were slim to none, was what his statistics/economics teacher liked to say. But if he said that now, the chances of getting bopped on the head were astoundingly high.

"Will...will you miss me, Howie?" she said, her tone going back to being a bit forlorn.

He didn't have to think about that at all. "Of course I'll miss you, Ramona," he said.

Ramona had been a part of his life ever since he could remember. He used to regard her as a sort of Willa Jean - loud, messy, annoying, and always making a fuss about _something_, except, of course, she was bigger, so she was capable of making a _bigger_ fuss than Willa Jean. But somehow, they were still friends after all this time, and yet closer than mere friends. Cousins, sort of, because of Uncle Hobart and her Aunt Beatrice. He really couldn't imagine life without Ramona in it, probably because she had a way of making sure everyone around knew of her existence and opinions.

He had thought that their friendship would suffer a severe blow when she started dating Danny. To tell the truth, he had been a bit jealous - not that he wanted to date Ramona himself - but just that he felt he was being edged out as Ramona's best male friend. But when Danny's parents divorced and he moved away to live with his dad, that problem seemed to resolve itself, and Howie's life was back to the semi-calm that it had always been. He hated fuss as much as she hated being left out of things.

"We'll always be friends, Ramona," he promised.

But one thing he couldn't promise was that things weren't going to change.

They were changing, and they would never be the same again.


	2. Going Home

The apartment that he had shared for the past three years was now devoid of his possessions, almost as though he had never been there. He had lived on campus in a dorm his first year, and then realized that it was too noisy for him, unlike the calmness of this place. The location of the apartment was also perfect, equidistant from the campus, restaurants, and the design lab where he had interned for the last year and a half.

Howie heaved a sigh. It was really going to be hard to leave such convenience. But graduation had come and gone, and now he had to make the long drive upstate and back home to Oregon.

As was his habit, he cast a look around the room, and double-checked behind the doors to make sure none of his belongings remained. There was a book on the top shelf of his closet that he had overlooked, and he reached for it.

As soon as it was in his hand, he knew what it was. _Red Ribbon_, by Ramona Quimby. She had written and illustrated a children's book and somehow had managed to get it published.

She had sent this one to him. In the dedication page, she had dedicated it to her parents, and then as an afterthought, to him. _To Howie K._, _for letting me have the red ribbon_. He couldn't help a small laugh as he flipped through the pages. He had almost forgotten this book, and the ribbon. The ribbon that their teacher, Mrs. Something-or-other, had given to him. Of course, Ramona had thought it was her ribbon. They had had a terrible row, him holding on mainly because he wasn't going to give in to her at any cost.

Good old Ramona. She was a creative thing, he thought fondly. Always had been, and regularly ranted and raved at him for taking things so literally and overanalyzing matters in his factual way. It would be good to see her again. He hadn't seen her in, oh, was it now really four years? Had he really not seen her since he left for college?

He hadn't gone to Beezus's wedding because of the senior trip. Then, when he came back, it was only for a short period before heading off for college. That's right, she had been off at orientation at the state college, so they didn't even see each other then.

Then freshman year Christmas, his parents had brought Willa Jean and his grandmother down to southern California to take advantage of the sunshine. That summer, he had gone to Hawaii, and then Mexico with friends. The following Christmas, _Ramona_ hadn't been around - she had gone to visit Daisy.

Sophmore year, he had been part of the team that had won the design award, and they had gone off to Boston for the finals. That summer, he had been recruited for another project, and he hadn't made it home.

After that, he started working, and his parents had taken his advice about Hawaii, and they had gone there together for Christmas the following year.

Four years. He grinned a bit as he flipped the large illustrated pages of the book until he reached the back flap. Ramona smiled back at him from her photograph. Her hair, still straight, still brown, hung a little below her shoulders. She looked the same, but almost...well, almost _pretty_, was the word that sprung to his mind. But of course, he thought hastily as he shut the book, they would have put makeup all over her face before taking the photograph anyway.

_Wonder if she's changed at all_, he mused to himself. _Wonder if she's the same Ramona, eyes alight with crazy ideas, wearing all her emotions on her sleeves?_

He turned the book back to the front. Strange that the book had been tucked into his closet, when he was sure that it had always been on his desk, a fond reminder of home. But then, it was possible that Carol, his girlfriend two years ago, had hidden it away. She had gotten the strange idea that there was something between him and Ramona, despite _all_ evidence to the contrary and his explanations that she was just a girl he grew up with.

Tucking the book under his arm, Howie let himself out of the apartment and walked to his car, the engine of which, he was proud to say, built by him. And his team, of course.

It was time to go home.


	3. Homecoming

Like every time he went home or saw his family, he was alternately pleased and annoyed by the attention.

"Howard!" his grandmother greeted him. She called him Howard now because she felt that "Howie" was a little boy's name. She wasn't to know that after a lifetime of being called Howie, it wasn't that easy to transition to being called Howard. They should have thought of that before shortening his name.

Then, she followed that affectionate greeting with, "Wipe your feet on the mat before you come in. I don't want you tracking in mud all over my clean floor."

Some things never changed. But she was wearing a pleased smile all the same, and there was the aroma of fresh-baked cookies from the kitchen, and what smelled like his favorite, tomato beef Stroganoff casserole.

"Hey, Gran," he greeted, and he hugged her, even as she clucked over him and the bag that was in the foyer, and his car that might not have been parked properly on the street.

He ignored all of this and shrugged off his jacket. He went into the kitchen and rinsed his hands briefly before taking a cookie from the plate on the counter. Then, keeping the first cookie between his teeth, he took another one and went to his room, ignoring her admonishing, "You'll ruin your appetite!" He didn't bother to tell her that men never ruined their appetites. Even if they did, another appetite would be right around the corner.

He hung his clothing in his closet and was stowing away his bag when he heard Willa Jean's voice before he saw her.

"Is he home? I saw his car out front!" he heard her shout. There was the slamming of the front door and the sound of running feet just before she appeared at his doorway, breathless.

"Howie!" Willa Jean shouted with glee, and ran forward to hug him.

He hugged her as she launched herself at him. "Hey, Willa Jean."

"It's Willa now," she corrected him. "I don't like the 'Jean' at the end."

He raised his eyebrows and blinked as he cast his eyes over her midriff baring shirt and tight jeans. "_Gran_ lets you out of the house wearing that?" he asked, incredulous.

Willa Jean - or rather, Willa - shrugged. "It's what all the girls are wearing at school," she said.

He shook his head slowly. "Times certainly change."

She smacked him on the arm. "You sound like an old man! I'm so excited you're back home! Are you back for good?"

"It depends. I have a few job offers, but some of them involve a lot of traveling. Then again, I might go back to school for my masters degree. I thought I'd discuss it with the folks first."

Willa Jean - he still wasn't able to call her Willa (the same principle that applied to him not responding to Howard) - gave a wave of her hand. "That's not what I'm interested in. Did you bring whatshername with you?"

"What's whose name?"

"That girl you were seeing. The snooty one."

"Marnie wasn't snooty," he said.

"Oh, I was thinking of the blond. Cathy, or something."

"Carol," he corrected.

"There was a Marnie?" she asked at the same time.

"There was. There isn't any more."

"My brother the player," Willa Jean said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

He didn't bother to correct her. Two - or three - casual girlfriends wasn't playing around. "When are the folks going to be home?" he asked instead.

"Mom went out to pick up a cake - oops!" Willa Jean clasped her hands over her mouth and looked guilty. "I wasn't supposed to tell."

"Right," he said drily. "Well, I could have guessed anyway. There was a rolled up banner on the kitchen counter."

"You got home too soon! Let's go out for a spin, and then when we get back, you can act surprised. You _can_ act surprised, right?"

"I'll try my hardest," he said.

He let Willa Jean drag him off to the city center, where it soon became apparent that Willa Jean really was just using him as an excuse to go on a shopping spree. He wandered slowly behind her. They got drinks at a nearby food court, and he obligingly carried her bags as they walked through the strip mall. Then, the bookstore caught his eye and they went in.

He was flipping through a calendar in which the latest designs in racing cars were photographed when something - a voice - caught his attention and he looked up. But he saw nothing, and he set down the calendar. He still wasn't all that sure he wanted to devote his energy to building race cars, but his interest was in designing and building things. He'd have to see. He hadn't bothered to tell Willa Jean that this summer may be a temporary break rather than permanent. He had already sent in applications to graduate schools and had gotten acceptances - he just wasn't all that sure yet what was his next step and he didn't like exposing his hand before he was sure what he wanted to do.

And then there it was again. A familiar laugh.

He set down the book he was holding and wandered out from the aisle he was browsing. Willa Jean was nowhere to be seen.

Holding all of Willa Jean's bags in one hand and his drink in the other, he strolled toward where he had heard the laugh. It came from the direction of the children's books area. He could see a group of children in there, some kneeling on the bright colored carpet, and some sitting in small plastic chairs. There seemed to be some sort of arts and crafts going on. His mouth twisted a bit. He had never liked arts and crafts all that much back in the day.

There was someone - a young woman - helping the children. She was half bent over the low table, having finished distributing construction paper and was now holding a cannister of what looked like glitter in the other hand. At first, she didn't seem to be that familiar, with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing little hoop earrings. And then she glanced up, and his breath caught for a moment.

He hadn't recognized her because he so infrequently saw her in a ponytail. But it was her. Ramona Quimby.

Ramona had a part-time job at the local library and also spent two hours every Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays teaching a storytelling arts and crafts class offered at the biggest bookstore in town. It wasn't her first choice of employment, and it wasn't by any means a stable form of employment, but it had been the only employment she had found in a dwindling economy and not possessed of a technical degree. She had mourned the hindsight that now accompanied her partially employed state, but she was still hopeful of getting a full time job in a field she liked.

And after all, she quite enjoyed the brief time she had with her "students," although deep down she knew she was just a glorified babysitter. But, babysitting a small group of children armed with dangerous weapons (scissors) and even more dangerous decoration (glitter), she found that she had to constantly be on the lookout for warning signs, such as Robby giving sideways glances at Kelly's hair when he was holding glue in his hands, or Tammy forgetting that her paint-streaked hands were not to be used to touch other parts of the bookstore.

This particular Thursday, she had woken with the thought that things were going to be looking up.

Even though she had been living at home even after graduation, and Roberta's friend's younger sister had taken to asking why she was still living at home even though she was so _old_, Ramona had decided that she would call up Beezus and ask if she might not look for a job in the city she was living with Henry and their little boy. Expanding the search field for employment was sure to turn up something, as her parents were constantly telling her. And after all, her father had waited years and years for the right job to come along. She was only twenty-two. She had a long way to go before having to anguish over such a thing.

Then, after a morning at the library in which nothing could go wrong, Ramona had returned to the house to find a letter waiting for her. Her children's book, Tin Cans, was an interesting idea, wrote the editor, but there was a small issue with the ending. Could they meet to talk about it?

Ramona was ecstatic and wished somebody had been at home to talk about it. She settled on calling her mother at the clinic. Mrs. Quimby was happy for her and suggested picking up pizza to celebrate.

Ramona was happy but practical: "Let's eat what's left of yesterday's leftovers, and if it gets accepted, I'll treat you all to a special dinner!"

She could feel her mother smiling at her over the phone. "What a mature and thoughtful daughter I have!" she said, before ringing off.

It left a warm glow in Ramona's stomach, and she took the bus into town and her afternoon job.

She was so happy that she hummed to herself as she set up supplies in preparation for the class. Yes, things were looking up, she thought to herself, and it didn't even bother her when Tim and Robby got in a fight over who could use the glitter first, and Tammy burst into tears when she realized that they weren't going to be doing finger painting today. It probably wasn't very diplomatic of her, since she had known how much it hurt to have an adult laugh at you at that age, but she laughed it all off.

In fact, she was so happy that it almost didn't surprise her at all when she felt someone's eyes on her and she looked up to see a very familiar figure at the doorway to their small alcove.

A dear, familiar figure that she hadn't seen for four years.


	4. Same, But Different

It really _was_ Ramona, Howie thought, as he stood there.

It shouldn't have been surprising to find her in the midst of a ton of art supplies, glue on her fingers, and some glitter in her hair, and after all, she still lived in Portland. But somehow, the surprise of seeing her here, and not next door, froze him in his steps.

Ramona took a quick glance around the children around the low tables and made her way over to him, a smile on her lips. "Howie!" she exclaimed. "Wow, it's so good to see you! I didn't know you were coming back today!"

They had known each other forever, but somehow when he didn't immediately respond, her smile slipped a bit and she patted him awkwardly on the arm. "You haven't changed a bit," she ventured, surveying him. "Taller, of course. More tan, but I guess that's because you've been living in California."

_She_ had though, Howie thought. She was very different.

She _looked_ almost the same. Same brown hair. Same big brown eyes. Same smile. Same slender figure, and same way of looking up at him in expectation.

Same, but different.

For whatever reason he couldn't put his finger on at this moment, there was something different about her, and yet at the same time, very familiar.

Then, Willa Jean was there. "Hey, Ramona! I didn't know that your class was here. Fancy meeting you here, huh, when Howie's just come back home." She poked Howie in the ribs.

"How long will you be in town, Howie?" Ramona was asking.

"A couple of months," he said.

"That's great!" Ramona said, her eyes glittering. "Daisy's coming back in a couple of weeks, and the old gang will be back as well. We'll all have to catch up!" She sounded excited.

"Won't Roberta just be so thrilled to see him?" gloated Willa Jean.

Ramona glanced sideways at him. "Well..."

Willa Jean elbowed Howie again. "Roberta has the biggest crush on you, you know."

"Willa Jean!" Ramona protested. "Don't-!"

Willa Jean looked at her with wide eyes. "What? It's no different from when you were a kid and had a crush on Henry Huggins for rescuing you."

"That's different," Ramona said stiffly.

"How's that different?" Willa Jean asked.

"It's just different, that's all," Ramona replied, and met Howie's eyes. He could read her thoughts in them. It was different to Ramona because Roberta was her little sister and Ramona wanted to protect her feelings. It was different because Ramona had been even younger than Roberta was now.

He smiled inwardly to himself. "I won't say a word," he promised. "It'll be our little secret."

"She'll be so embarrassed if she knew you knew," Ramona said with relief. "Thanks, Howie."

Then, she finally hugged him and quickly pulled away.

Too quickly, he thought to himself.

_Too quickly._

"So," Willa Jean said to him when they had left Ramona to her students. She was waggling her eyebrows at him. "Now you know Roberta has a huge crush on you, are you flattered?"

"What's there to be flattered about?" he responded.

Willa Jean sighed. "You haven't changed a bit, big brother. You're still the same taciturn old hand. Doesn't anything ever rile you?"

Very few things did, actually. He didn't bother responding as they walked from the strip mall back to his car.

"How does it feel to be back?" she asked.

Somehow, his mind immediately went back to Ramona. "Same, but different," he said.

"Cryptic as always," Willa Jean said critically.

"Do you see Ramona a lot?" he asked.

"Sure. She lives next door, so we sometimes hang out. Well, when she's not dating anyone, we hang out a bit more."

"She's dating someone?" he asked.

Howie felt Willa Jean glance at him and he kept his face impassive.

"Well, she was seeing someone. I don't think they're still together."

He wanted to ask more, but Willa Jean had changed the subject, and was pointing out a new subdivision being built nearby.


	5. Howie's Back!

Howie was back!

It was another happy piece of news to finish her day, and when she went to pick up her mother from the clinic, she informed Mrs. Quimby.

"Howie's back? How nice!"

They both looked at each other and laughed, each thinking of how excited twelve-year old Roberta would be.

"I wonder if Beezus felt as strange when I announced I was going to marry Henry Huggins," Ramona thought out loud.

"Well, you were a lot younger," admitted Mrs. Quimby.

"Howie Kemp, of all people. He's a strange one to have a crush on," Ramona said.

"Why strange?"

"I don't know. He's so...calm and unruffled. He never gets excited over anything."

"Some girls find that calmness exciting," Mrs. Quimby said with a smile. "They may like a man who's cool under pressure. It probably doesn't hurt that he's grown up to be a handsome young man as well."

Ramona thought the word "handsome" was such an outdated word and said so.

"Well, he is. Or however you young people choose to put it nowadays. He was a good-looking boy and he's grown up to be a good-looking young man."

Ramona shrugged. Howie Kemp was a nice looking boy, she thought. But he wasn't very exciting to her. He was just the boy from next door, who was her very best male friend, who was reliable and dependable, and who was always to be counted on for fun outings. She much preferred men who were exciting and passionate, like how Danny had been, who would tease her and make inappropriate remarks. Someone who would gaze at her with flirtatious eyes and smile wickedly at her. There was nothing inappropriate or flirtatious or wicked about Howie. There was nothing _frivolous_ about Howie.

He was just Howie Kemp, the boy next door, whom she had known all her life, who had been with her through thick and thin, ups and downs, and who was even family. Who had always been there for her, and who had saved her skin many a time.

"And, you know, he's done quite well for himself, from what I've heard," added Mrs. Quimby. "All the prizes that he's won."

"From his grandmother?" Ramona asked rudely. "I wouldn't believe too much of what she says."

"Ramona," Mrs. Quimby admonished gently. "And I heard it from his mother. Who isn't one to brag, by the way. So just as I thought Henry Huggins was an excellent young man to have a crush on, I think Roberta can do a lot worse than Howie Kemp."

"He's very different from Danny," Ramona said.

"Very different," Mrs. Quimby agreed. "But of the two, I think Howie Kemp would make the better husband."

Trust her mother to say something so old-fashioned! Ramona rolled her eyes. And so unromantic!

"And," her mother went on with a mischievous smile. "I don't think Howie Kemp is boring in the least. I think there runs an edge of fire under that cool exterior. And I bet that's what all the girls find attractive about him."

"_All the girls_" was a bit excessive, Ramona thought later, but her reverie was interrupted by Roberta.

"Is Howie really back?" Roberta demanded to know. "When are you going over to see him?"

Ramona hadn't really thought about it. It had been four years since they'd met last. A lifetime. And when she had seen him earlier, he hadn't seemed all that pleased to see her. In hindsight, she was a bit annoyed with him. To think that she had sent him her book! He had emailed back a note of thanks, and she had tried to engage him in chatty emails. No such luck. His replies grew briefer and briefer until she decided in a moment of pique not to write him anymore.

And now he had almost snubbed her at the bookstore by being cold and unfriendly. What made her hug him, for heaven's sake. She hadn't hugged him in forever, but then, back in the day, he hadn't been so unapproachable.

"I don't know if I'll go over there, Roberta," Ramona said honestly. Roberta refused to go by Robbi or Berta, so their whole family called her Roberta.

Roberta looked crestfallen, so Ramona suggested, "Maybe you can go over to visit Willa Jean?"

Roberta shuffled her feet. "No, that's weird. I'm not that close with her. _You're _closer to him-them, I mean."

_Not anymore_, Ramona thought to herself. "That was a long time ago, Roberta. I haven't seen Howie in four years. I just happened to bump into him at the bookstore today, that's all. It's not like he called to tell me he was coming back." Thinking about this made her realize that Howie's return wasn't necessarily a piece of good news for her. They _used_ to be good friends, the operative word being in the past tense.

But she relented when she saw that Roberta looked unhappy. "How about if we visit them this weekend?" she suggested.

But the weekend was two days away, an eternity to wait for, as she could see in Roberta's expression.

"Maybe a little bit later then," Ramona relented reluctantly. "He'll be with family tonight, but I guess it can't hurt to go say hi."

Her sister's sudden smile was worth her capitulation.


	6. The Corvos Return

It was still the same later that night. Howie reflected that there was much to be said about being independent of his family and having his own freedom. When he had lived on his own, he had lived by his own rules and schedule. Here, he was bound by someone else's rules and regulations. Dinner, for example, was determined by his grandmother. The food, luckily, was quite delicious, but he was left with the thought that in this household, he would not always be able to choose what he was eating, when or how much of it he was allowed to eat.

Not that this loss of liberty was apparent right away. But it was an inevitable thing.

At one point, his parents asked him about his plans for the future. And suddenly, he realized what it was he wanted to do. He wouldn't just take the job for which he had applied in Portland. In that moment, he had made up his mind - he was going to enroll in the graduate program in mechanical engineering on the East Coast.

"It's not that we're not proud of you, Howie, but are you sure you wouldn't want to stay in Oregon?" his mother asked.

"Oh, leave him be, Evelyn," his father said. "The boy wants to go to graduate school and he has the brains and wherewithal to do so. So let him be."

But his mother had cast one last look at him which he couldn't decipher, which he later decided was comprised of equal parts sadness and bewilderment, as though unable to understand what kept him away from home.

Then his parents talked laughingly of the neighbors, some that he knew, and some that he didn't know.

"Richard Corvo's back in town, I hear," his mother was saying. "I was in the grocery store earlier today, and Maggie told me."

"Corvo? Is that Danny Corvo's father?" Willa Jean glanced at Howie as if to ask.

"That's right, Danny Corvo was in your grade," his mother said to Howie.

"Is Dan Corvo going to be back in town?" Howie asked, his face a perfect blank. Inside, his heart did a small tattoo. He wasn't quite sure what that meant, that and this sudden twisting of his stomach.

"Probably," his grandmother piped in. "Daniel Corvo was helping his father out with the family business before they left."

"Wow!" exclaimed Willa Jean, sitting back in her chair. "Wasn't Ramona super heart broken when he left? I can't wait to tell her the news."

His mother glanced at her and said, "Well, it's not for sure that Danny Corvo will be back. I'd rather you not say anything just yet. It wouldn't do to get Ramona's hopes up."

Howie said nothing, although there were many things he could have said.

The foremost on his mind being, he didn't want to have to be the one picking up the pieces again.


End file.
